Too Close to Home
by combativeAdjutor
Summary: America finds himself being chased by a murderously insane Russia. It's okay, England came to save him. But what is England talking about? England and America are most certainly not together! Rated for violence and language. RusAmer and USUK. Oneshot.


**A/N:  After writing Chapter 4 of The Patriot Experiment, I decided that I wanted to write something with some more action (though I was half-asleep when I wrote this so I'm afraid that it has turned out horrible beyond repair) and that is RusAmer. And since I have NO EXCUSE to write something like that for the 5th chapter of my sci-fi-ish USUK, I made this.  
><strong>**Disclaimer:**** Hetalia: Axis Powers and Hetalia: World Series belong to Himaruya and respective copyright holders. I'm only playing in the sandbox. **

**_~Start~  
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><p><strong><strong>It was dark and cold. Water dripped slowly from the ceiling, landing on his face. It was raining outside, dripping through the leaky roof of the shack you was hiding in. Silence everywhere except for the pitter-patter of rain on an old tin roof. He clutched his only weapon, an old baseball bat, to him. He listened carefully. There it was; footsteps.

His grip on the baseball bat tightened as he pushed himself up from sitting on the floor to squatting on his knees, ready to jump up if need be. The footsteps paused outside the door. Then, he heard the door open. He could hear his blood pounding in his head as he tried to remain hidden behind a pile of junk."

"America, where are you?" the person who had entered the shack asked, his voice ringing out fake innocence. America pressed himself further against the wall, glancing quickly at the window a few feet above him. Could he-? Suddenly the pile he had been hiding behind was no more and America jumped to his feet in time to avoid being hit by a pipe.

"Just what do you want, Russia?" America asked as he looked around for a way to escape. Russia—bloody pipe, childish smile, and all—stood between him and the door. There were two windows in the shack; America just had to get out of one. Russia's smile grew larger as he swung his pipe at America's head.

America took his chance and dived to the right. There was no time to open the window so he punched through it. Blood poured down his hand and shards of glass protruded from his skin, but he jumped out through the window and ran. His coat was ripped and stained with who-knows-what and his right hand was a bloody mess, but he ran.

He had no idea what was going on. Why was Russia trying to kill him? What had he done? What had his Boss done? He wanted to know, would have given anything to know, what had driven Russia into such a rage. Pushing aside the turmoil in his mind, he looked around to see where he had run to.

A forest. Trees towered over him, blocking out the light; not that there was much to start with, it was so overcast. It was so quiet, he strained his ears for the sound or pursuit but heard nothing except for his heavy breathing. His heart was pounding.

He leaned against the nearest tree, gripping his baseball bat tightly. The plots of a dozen or so horror movies ran through his head.

Ivan had always told him that it wasn't real. No insane serial killer was going to chase him through the woods. But now _Ivan _was chasing him through the woods. Why? For the past few years, he and Ivan had been dating. Relationships between Nations were always balancing acts on fine string, what with their Bosses having no regard for their relationships and it being very likely that they would offend the other Nation's Boss in some way. But so far, so great. International affairs between the United States of America and the Russian Confederation had greatly improved and nothing had happened in their personal relationship either. Actually, the last thing America could remember was having a nice dinner with Russia; followed by…America blushed before remembering where he was. Leaning against a tree in a big scary forest and running for his life.

"America." a voice said from behind him. His body stiffened and he darted away from the tree. He turned around and saw Russia standing right behind it.

"Russia, seriously, tell me what I did! What did I do wrong? _Russia_!" America yelled at him, his mind a confused jumble in his panic. Russia just advanced, his eyes glazed over and his smile wide, dried blood smudged his forehead and entire body encompassed in an eerie purple glow.

"Kol kol kol kol kol kol…" Russia chanted, the sound filled the air. America's heart was pounding a mile a minute; he could hear it in his head. His breathing became shallow as his grip on the baseball bat tightened even more, so much more that he feared it would snap.

"Ivan, just tell me! What did I do?" Alfred said in desperation.

Suddenly, a shot rang out in the forest and Russia's long winter coat gained a new splotch of red on his shoulder. It took America a few seconds to realize that someone had shot Russia. He looked around frantically and saw someone wearing black pants, a black hoody with the hood up, and a plain white mask that covered his entire face gesturing for him to run towards them. America took off and followed his savior to a pickup truck a little ways away. The person started the car and they sped away on the remains of a road.

Once they got out of the forest, the person took off their mask and pushed the hood back, revealing messy blonde hair, green eyes, and huge eyebrows.

"England?" America gasped.

"You really are a fool, America. What were you doing out here!" England yelled at him, but he kept his eyes on the road.

"Ummm, running for my life?" America replied, confused.

"I saw you just an _hour _ago! I specifically told you to stay put! Now is not the time for your 'hero' antics! How did you manage to get into that situation, you bloody idiot!" England yelled.

"Uhh, no you didn't, I haven't seen you in months. And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" America was so confused. "Now tell me, what the hell is going on?"

"Did Russia actually hit your head with his pipe or are you really this stupid!" England asked incredulously.

"England, I seriously don't know what the fuck is going on. The last thing I remember was having dinner with Ivan, among other things…" America trailed off.

"What do you mean, dinner with Ivan?" England asked, shocked.

"Well, we have been together for almost 4 years now, it's not like it's anything new, so of course I would have dinner with him." America said, rolling his eyes.

"America, what are you talking about? _We _have been together for the last 5 years." England said.

"Ha ha, nice joke." America laughed, but he wasn't amused. He was confused. What the hell was going on? England didn't say anything and the rest of the drive was silent. Finally, they stopped in front of a run-down building. He followed England inside.

Inside was a table where several other nations sat, talking quietly.

"IGGY~!" A voice called out and America saw England get enveloped in a warm hug.

"Alfred? But—What?" England sputtered. He pushed the person hugging him—America?—away and turned around. America looked at the person who had hugged England and saw himself. What. The. Fuck?

"Woah. What's going on? Why do I see myself?" America asked, but then noticed that there were several guns pointed in his direction, all lead by England who stood in front of him with a revolver aimed between his eyes.

"Who are you?" England demanded.

"The United States of America." America said.

"Lies. Who are you, really?" England asked again.

"I already told you!" he exclaimed. Suddenly, the door to the building splintered and fell in, someone had broken it. Russia stood on the other side. Everyone who had been sitting leapt to their feet. America saw Japan pull out his Katana and other nations take out their weapons.

America could only stand, shocked, as the room, and the world, dissolved into chaos. Screams echoed through the building as he pulled himself into a ball and closed his eyes tight. He had no idea what to do, he had no idea who to fight, he had no idea of what was going on. So he listened as bodies fell and shots rang out, not doing anything. He felt sick with himself for his cowardice, heroes didn't cower! But he was so confused, so lost, he didn't belong here.

"ENGLAND!" He heard his own voice scream, following the sound of a body meeting the hard floor. He hadn't yelled, the other him had. But it still chilled his blood. There were so many nations here with guns and other weapons, how was Russia, with his pipe, managing to kill so many? What was going on!

Then, all the noise stopped. He opened his eyes and saw the other him on the ground, holding England to him, in front of Russia. Russia smiled.

"America, it's time to join your brother just like your lover just did, da?" Russia said coldly.

"Ivan," the other America said desperately. "Stop talking, just kill me."

America saw double. He was watching the scene unfold, watching Russia lift his pipe over his head to strike the other him, but at the same time he was watching Russia's cold violet eyes that had once held so much warmth and love bore into his own, watched him smile as he brought his pipe down.

"NO!" America yelled as his mind became more confused. He saw the other him fall over England's body, bloody pouring out of his head as he joined the other bodies. But at the same time he felt the pain of the wound, felt his blood pour out, and felt that blissful darkness creep over him.

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><p>America opened his eyes, his breathing shallow, his heart pounding.<p>

"Alfred, are you alright?" Ivan asked. He was lying next to him in Alfred's bed, looking at him in concern as he set his book aside. Alfred checked the time: 10:14 AM, Russia usually read in the morning while he waited for him to wake up.

"I had to scariest nightmare," Alfred admitted, burrowing his face into Ivan's chest."Everyone died."

"It was just a dream, da? So no need to be afraid. There are much scarier things in real life." Ivan said.

"And that's so reassuring." Alfred said, looking up at Ivan's face.

"Of course it is, now get up. I'm making blini for breakfast." Russia replied, getting out of bed.

"Isn't that like crepes?" Alfred asked.

"No, it is Russian." was all Ivan said before pulling on a pair of pants and walking out of the room.

_**~Fin~**  
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><p><strong><span>AN: So? What did you think? I'm sorry if Russia is OOC (I'm always worried about this), but it had to be done.  
>Also, I am Russian and blini are a thousand times better than crepes, cuz they are Russian! XD<strong>_  
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